


What Your Imaginary Self Told Me

by DoreyG



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: 08X18 tie in, Awkward confessions of love, I can't have been the only one who expected a snog at the end, M/M, Mac's eyebrows, Mentions of canon violence, Mentions of main character injury, Profound amounts of flail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you,” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees Mac again: alive and <i>almost</i> well and sitting up in his hospital bed in a way that can only be described as cheerfully pained.</p>
<p>…And, okay, those weren’t <i>meant</i> to be the first words out of his mouth in <i>any</i> scenario. But Mac smiles as if he was expecting them, and so they’re almost alright and almost acceptable and almost understandable and almost-</p>
<p><i>Almost</i>, “Shit! <i>Sorry</i>, I didn’t mean-“</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Your Imaginary Self Told Me

“I love you,” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees Mac again: alive and _almost_ well and sitting up in his hospital bed in a way that can only be described as cheerfully pained.

…And, okay, those weren’t _meant_ to be the first words out of his mouth in _any_ scenario. But Mac smiles as if he was expecting them, and so they’re almost alright and almost acceptable and almost understandable and almost-

_Almost_ , “Shit! _Sorry_ , I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright, Don,” Mac’s voice is, miraculously, as calm as ever – it’s _Almost_ (so (too) many things have been _almost_ today) reassuring, “sit.”

…He hesitates for a moment anyway.

“ _Sit_.”

Obeys only reluctantly. Slowly lowers himself into the most uncomfortable chair besides the bed (he figures he deserves it), probably accompanied by an expression _almost_ (that word again, he’s practically considering renaming today _almostday_ ) like a horse about to bolt.

“So,” Mac ignores it, looks at him like he wants to _talk_.

“…Erm,” a pity that _he_ doesn’t want to – a pity that he’d rather run a _marathon_ than say another word on whatever the subject may be, “I assume Hawkes told you everything about your, er, condition?”

“Yes.”

“That you were shot in the back and almost went into cardiac arrest and will experience severe internal bleeding if you attempt any movement beyond a sedate stroll?”

“ _And_ that I’ll be perfectly fine as long as I avoid all implied running, walking an general bending for half a year,” Mac only arches an eyebrow, he’s _always_ been able to see through those sort of tricks. Through any sort of tricks, really, the man has X-ray eyes that suspicious wives and college frat boys would _kill_ for, “he mentioned it, yes.”

“The general bending might be a bit of an exaggeration, _but_ -“ he mumbles - turns _bright_ red as that eyebrow arches even higher, scurries on before he can actually _explode_ , “I also assume that Danny told you about the case?”

“ _Yes_.”

“That the guy, who you shot, had his girlfriend waiting outside the store. That she heard the gun and hurried in and shot _you_ in revenge the moment you turned your back on her, then went on to shoot the guy on the till and steal several pills-“

“That _was_ what I gathered from Danny, with a few more curses thrown in and Lindsey holding him back from tackling me” …Mac’s eyebrow is impossibly high now. He wonders if he should call a doctor, ask if over the top eyebrow lifting is likely to set off any further cardiac arrests, “ _Yes_ , again.”

…It’s deeply unsettling, at the very least, “interesting, don’t you think?”

“Mildly.”

“We caught her, by the way,” _Deeply_ unsettling – in a way that makes him want to pace around the room and bounce on the balls of his feet and blurt _more_ secrets into the air without properly thinking through, “The perp, the one who shot you… _Actually_ caught her, despite the fact that she _shot_ you. We didn’t-“

“Don.”

“-Kill her, not like last time one of ours was-“

“ _Don_.”

…He’s forced to pause, for a long moment with the breath _almost_ (that word again, he thought he was _rid_ of it) choking in his lungs. Mac’s eyes remain on him the whole time, his eyebrow remains thoughtfully arched.

“… _I_ didn’t-”

_Pointedly_ arched, he half thinks that a blade right in his heart would feel better, “ _Flack_ -“

“Not like last time,” much better – as everything falls out in a rush, the words tumbling over and over each other until he can half feel his tongue tangling, “not like when _Jess_ … Not like when I killed Simon Kane. Shot him point blank, right in the head. I _knew_ , still know, that it was the wrong thing to do, but- _But_ I didn’t do it this time and-“

“ _Flack!_ ”

…That was practically a bark.

He shuts up – hangs his head, closes his eyes, swallows down the bile and waits for Mac’s verdict as quietly as he can.

“I knew that” …And he wasn’t expecting _that_ , but he’ll take it – he might _throw up_ in the middle of taking it but at least it doesn’t look like he’ll die or be carted off to prison, “Have known that for at least the past three years, in fact. But, as I said to your imaginary self, you’re a good man and a good cop and didn’t deserve to be pulled in for it.”

He might just end up almost gawping, actually.

…No, no, scratch that: he _will_ end up gawping. At great length. With so much enthusiasm that he practically deserves a medal.

“Don?”

“M-my imaginary self?”

“It’s complicated,” a small smile graces Mac’s face, doesn’t lower the eyebrow and so _doesn’t_ ease his gawp, “and we have bigger matters to focus upon, I’m sure you agree.”

…Nope, doesn’t ease the gawp at _all_ , actually, almost makes it _worse_ , “what-?”

“Your imaginary self also told me that _you_ never told Angell you loved her before she died,” _far_ worse – until it’s practically become the largest gawp in the city (if not the state, country and possibly _world_ ) and something to be gawped at itself, “was that true?”

“I- _I_ -“

Mac patiently, _always_ patiently, waits through his stuttering with expectant expression still intact.

“…Maybe.”

Still _firmly_ intact.

“…Yes.”

So firmly intact that it isn’t even rocked by another one of those small smiles, isn’t even _ruffled_ as Mac nods slowly like he’s _pleased_ , “neither of us have ever been very good at expressing our emotions. It’s an unfortunately shared fatal flaw.”

“Yeah,” he has to lick his lips before he manages more, “unfortunate. Did you… Ever tell Claire you loved her before she, uh, you know?”

“Not as often as I should’ve.”

“Ah.”

Mac watches him as he licks his lips again – quietly, calmly. Both expectant expression and eyebrow merrily intact, “she had an imaginary form too, you know.”

“Did she?”

“Yet another thing to expand on in the future,” merrily and firmly, a potent mix that still has him reeling – about to tumble off the chair and sprawl over the ground and prove an obstruction to the nurses when they inevitably come in “…I’m only mentioning it now because I’ve figured out that only the people I deeply care about had imaginary forms.”

They might have to give him another bed, actually. Cart his unconscious form to rest away from this sudden insanity for a few days.

“And also because I told her that I’d found somebody else.”

“Did-“ A few months, maybe. A few _years_ , quite possibly. His brain currently feels so hot that he might _never_ recover from this stupidly seething insanity “…Oh, erm, did you now?”

“She told me that she approved” …Never, “and also that I should be happy. Or, at least, as happy as I actually _can_ be.”

Never _ever_ -

There’s a long moment of silence.

“O-o-oh, we-well that’s-“

Before Mac reaches out. Rests a warm, almost soothing (actually _trying_ to soothe), hand over his own, “I love you too, Don.”

“… _Wha_ -?”

The slow stroke of Mac’s thumb is also warm, _also_ almost soothing (also actually trying to soothe). It practically gets him back into his seat, does _actually_ ease him from a full blown panic attack before he can make a complete and utter fool out of himself, “what you said, blurted, when you came in. That’s my answer: I love you too.”

…Actually allows him to simply stare, eyes far too wide but everything else absolutely fine.

Mac keeps stroking, “it’s odd how almost dying makes things much clearer to you.”

And he-

_He_ -

“I-“ he can only draw his hand away, cover his face and _laugh_ \- loud, shaky, _possibly_ a step away from wet as he senses Mac patiently smiling ( _again_ (Always)) by his side, “I’m not sure what to do about this. I love you, I know _that_ , but-“

“I know,” Mac offers, still smiling.

“…I’ve never even _been_ with a man before,” he still has to confess, in a voice so small that even the cockroaches would have trouble hearing it, “and I don’t know if our potential relationship, _God_ , would be breaking any ancient rules that we could both get kicked out for. And we’re both a lot screwed up, no offence, and what if you get shot again and I _love_ you and-“

And Mac’s hand covers his again.

Slowly draws it away from his face – down to the bed, almost resting over his thigh, “we’ll work it out, if you’re willing.”

…They stare at each other for a long moment.

“I love you,” he replies, almost experimentally.

“We’ll work it out,” Mac repeats in turn, entirely firm.

“…Yeah.”

They stare at each other for another long moment. A hopeful one this time: with his gut turning oddly and his veins fizzing strangely and a frankly _bizarre_ feeling in his chest (like he’s about to burst into song and dance and a thousand other humiliating things unfit for any public space).

“…Can I kiss you?” Comes out of his mouth, almost unbidden.

And Mac’s smile, Mac’s _proper_ smile that could set the clouds alight and the birds into chorus, is answer enough, “no bending for at least half a year. Weren’t you listening, Don?”

“Yeah, but I’m still _sure_ that that’s an exaggeration,” he can only _beam_ in reply, and lean in to kiss the man so quickly that he almost brains himself on the IV.

…That’s love, after all. And it’s well worth a headache as Mac smiles into his mouth and draws him down.


End file.
